To the Victor
by Runawaymetaphor
Summary: A little scene upon the joyous occasion of Voyager's re-launch...


**Author's note:**_ A little scene that wasn't, from the novels I kind of chose not to read. _

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><p><strong>To the Victor <strong>

"-And so, on this momentous occasion, I want us all to lift our glasses to the ship that carried us home. And to her new Captain and all those dedicated souls _Voyager _will now carry from this day forth: may all of your explorations be wondrous, and all of your returns swift."

At the conclusion of Admiral Janeway's speech, the crowd applauds thunderously, _Voyager_'s newly minted Captain reaching to grasp his friend and erstwhile CO's hand in an act of unabashed gratitude.

"Thank you, Kathryn," Chakotay says, his brown eyes shining.

"Of course," Janeway replies warmly, accepting his proffered kiss on the cheek and then touching his wife on the shoulder. "Make sure to keep him humble, Seven."

Though he can't hear the words over the din of the still-cheering crowd, Tom Paris watches the three-way exchange taking place on stage from where he sits, at the back of the room with his arm around B'Elanna.

"They look so happy," B'Elanna comments into her husband's ear.

But watching Janeway's frozen smile and unfaltering grace, Tom speaks no reply to her.

It's an hour later, when half of the party has dispersed and Paris and Janeway are both looking for something to drink, that the two find themselves in the same square meter of space for the first time all evening.

"There you are," she says, immediately moving to hug him, "I saw Miral and B'Elanna earlier. But when I turned around to find you, you were all the way across the room."

"And every time I went to say hello to you," he rejoins, "there were three lines of brass around you or four layers of well-wishers."

Janeway gives a small eye roll at the observation. An acknowledge of the trappings of her current professional life, even if a small one.

"So," he says, handing her a glass of wine from an elegantly decorated banquet table. "Chakotay is a Captain."

"_Voyager_'s Captain at that," Janeway comments, sipping her wine nonchalantly. "I am so pleased for him."

"Pleased," Tom repeats, nodding and smiling even as something else dances in his blue eyes.

A year or two earlier, the 'something else' would have been Janeway's signal to change the subject; engage him in a conversation about his newest holo venture, or Miral's latest attempts to sneak out of her bed at night.

But these days, something about Tom has a way of bringing out Kathryn's honestly.

Maybe it's that he's outside of Starfleet now, and so, unlike the rest of her former crew, isn't (in one way or another) her responsibility.

Or maybe it's just that after nine years of knowing him, she's realized that Tom is someone who misses little, regardless of admissions. And despite all the things he manages to see, he seems to hold her in the same, non-worshiping brand of affection he has for sometime.

"Tell me something," she sighs, taking a step closer and letting the perma-fixed smile slide off her face.

"Anything."

"How big of a monster does it make me that I'm so envious of my best friend, I find myself hating him a little right now?"

Chakotay isn't Janeway's best friend. Tom thinks he hasn't been since Seven, maybe even before that. Moreover, he has little understanding of why Janeway, obviously knowing this, still insists on referring to the former First Officer in such a way.

He has even less idea why said man, despite marrying Seven of Nine, still _genuinely_ holds to the idea that he occupies such an honored position.

But on all of this, Tom wisely makes no comment.

"A monster?" he smiles instead. "Afraid not, ma'am. Maybe just a poor mortal, like the rest of us flawed creatures." He adds, leaning in and smirking into her ear, "luckily for you, no one here would ever believe that, so your secret's safe."

His jab is the kind of childish taunt that shouldn't vex her, but as it has the advantage of being rather true, Janeway stews in front of him.

"Were you always such a bastard?" Kathryn drawls.

Despite her obvious preference to keep their exchange quiet, Tom can't keep in the howl of laughter prompted by the idea that this woman in flawless dress uniform- this pristine image of Starfleet goodness, whom Harry Kim _still _venerates- has just insulted his prestigious family lineage. Which, as a matter of course, she happens to have detailed knowledge of.

When they each glance up, they realize they're now on the receiving end of a half-dozen interested stares, including that of the guest of honor himself.

"I shouldn't be so petty," Janeway says, even as she adopts the same faked smile once more.

"It isn't petty," Paris says in seriousness. "It's a genuine sense of loss. You miss your ship. He's had it given to him, for all intents and purposes, on a silver platter. It's going to take a little time to get over that."

"Maybe," Kathryn allows. "I think. . . I don't know, I had this image of Starfleet letting me stay on a bridge indefinitely. You know, like Jean-Luc and the _Enterprise_. To the victor go the spoils, and all that." She pauses, pulling herself up before continuing, now in her characteristic resolve, "I just need to focus on the joy that I got my crew home and let everything else go."

A moment later, another Admiral appears by Janeway's side, Paris signaling his good-bye to her with a wink that she returns as she's drawn into a conversation about some minute detail of the newest treaty with Cardassia.

"You ready to go?" B'Elanna asks him afterward, as they gather up their child and the countless things that always seem to accompany a public outing with her.

"All set," Tom nods, scooping up the tottering little girl in his arms.

Making their way to the exit, Paris throws one last look at the emptying room behind them, and, catching Seven's eye, waves with a huge smile.

In true Seven fashion, she only nods, her slightly upturned mouth a subtle sign of affection as she tries to get her husband's attention to alert him to their departing friends.

The last thing Tom sees, turning around the corner, is Chakotay standing with his arm around Seven, his brown eyes trained on the opposite end of the room, where Janeway stands.

_The spoils indeed_, the former pilot thinks ruefully. And holds on a little tighter to his wife and child.


End file.
